


It's the Sun in Your Eyes

by J (jaywright)



Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Pirates of Leviathan
Genre: Crew as Family, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26904784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaywright/pseuds/J
Summary: "I can't lose another crew.""Then I think perhaps you should tell them that."
Relationships: Jack Brakkow/Garthy O'Brien
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73





	It's the Sun in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> written following episode 4, so some of the details don't quite match up with the events of episodes 5 & 6, but I have to say I am delighted by how much of this ended up becoming canon. contains canon-typical Jack angst. 
> 
> brief background mentions of Myrtle/Marcid and Bob/Trixie

The Gold Gardens were a blur around him. Cullen pressed a drink into his hand, and Jack tossed it back without tasting it.

Myrtle leaned out of her martini glass to reach for her own drink. "Keep 'em coming, Olive!"

"For the heroes of Leviathan?" Cullen asked. "All night long!"

Jack grimaced at the words, and he felt Marcid's elbow catch him in the side. "Guessing that's not a word you ever thought to hear applied to you."

"Don't think I care for it."

"Me neither," Marcid said with feeling. "Gonna have to put up with it for tonight, though, it seems. If we want the free drinks."

"Seems like," Jack agreed as the empty glass in his hand was replaced with a full one. 

Cheese darted up to them. "Bob's gonna sing!" 

Myrtle's arm draped out of the martini glass to curl around Marcid, pulling him into an embrace against the rim, leaning out to rest her chin on top of his head. "Ooh, this will be good," she said.

Marcid's neutral expression didn't crack, but he stayed there tolerantly in Myrtle's grasp, sipping his drink slowly, his eyes going to the stage.

Cheese was bouncing on his toes, trying to make himself taller, so Jack leaned down to scoop him up with one arm, plopping him on top of the bar.

"Oh!" A grin split across his face. "Thanks! I can't wait to come here with Spaulding when his ship gets back. He's really good at gambling."

"I don't know, I can think of a gamble or two of his that didn't pay off," Marcid said dryly.

Cheese's eyes went wide for a minute before a laugh burst out of him. "Yeah," he said. "I guess." He curled his fingers into the too-long sleeves of his coat. "But we got him back."

Jack dropped a hand to Cheese’s hair, ruffling it until it stood on end. “Y’did good, kid.”

Cheese beamed before looking past Jack, raising his soda delightedly. "Sunny! Bob's gonna sing!"

"I heard!" she said. She was radiant with excitement and pride at having served a purpose, her feathers ruffled and faintly singed at the edges, eyes gleaming with the rush of adventure. She leaned against the bar next to Marcid and raised her glass to show Myrtle the swirl of vibrant pink inside. "This tastes like sunshine!" 

Myrtle flicked her fingers at it, muttering under her breath. "Huh," she said, "interesting." The lights dimmed in the room, a spotlight lighting the stage. "Ask me after the show," she said, "and I'll tell you how to make one."

Bob's presence illuminated the room, all conversation dropping to a hush, all eyes turning to her. Jack felt his breath catch as she started to sing, his eyes wide and captivated, unable to look away from her dazzling form.

The music washed over him, cleansing and rejuvenating. The words were dimmed by the overwhelming _experience_ , but they formed the shape of a vague echo of the adventure they had just completed in Jack's mind – a quest, a triumph, a crew of companions – and as the song ended, Bob blew a kiss in the direction of the group of them, huddled by the bar.

Sunny and Cheese were applauding uproariously as the lights came up, and Myrtle had leaned out of her glass to get closer to Marcid, the two of them talking in low voices. Bob sidled up, Trixie's arm around her, and Jack found the energy to mumble a few words of praise for her to bask in before he finally felt the weight of the day crushing down on him. He drifted away from them all, to the far end of the bar, and was just considering signaling Cullen for another drink when a full glass clinked down onto the bar beside him.

"This spot taken?" Garthy asked, gesturing to the empty space at his side.

Jack reached for the glass, his fingers brushing Garthy's as he took it. "F-for you?" he mumbled, feeling heat rise in his face. "All yours." He lifted the glass to drink heavily from it, and found Garthy's eyes on him when he let it fall.

"You look like a less haunted man than when last I saw you, Jack."

A broken laugh cracked out of him. "That is true in more ways than you know." He felt a scrape in the back of his throat at the memory of a respectful nod, a salute, the wistful smiles of his crew as their spirits had swirled around his mast and the body of Clive for one final time before dissolving into the sea air. 

As if in response to his thoughts, Garthy peered at the empty space around him. "Heard you got yourself a new mast to lug around with you," they said. "Only this one's still attached to a ship." They arched an eyebrow at him. "Cap'n," they added teasingly.

Jack felt a swell of pride begin to filter through the pain. He looked down at himself, running a hand self-consciously over the fabric of his clothes, a bit battered from the final fight, but still the clear indication of a captain. "Aye," he agreed roughly. "I suppose you heard true. We did end up with a…we'll say a _liberated_ vessel at the end of all of this, and I don't imagine there's any others in the – " He stifled the urge to say _crew_. "Well, I don't imagine any of the others is in the market for a ship, so it stands to reason that she might be mine, when all is said and done." The sense of unreality returned at the words, at the thought of taking to the sea again in his own ship, of leaving the Bilge behind and becoming something other than Unlucky Jack. "I don't…" he said hesitantly. "I don't rightly know what to do with that."

Garthy's hand fell warm and reassuring on his arm. "You'll figure it out," they said, as if it were that easy.

"Figure it out," Jack repeated. "I suppose I'll have to." He looked down into his glass, considering his words for a long moment. "I have you to thank for that, I think," he said finally. "For me being in a state to figure out anything at all. Being here…I think it changed me. You changed me."

“I provided a shoulder to lean on and some soap for the grime, lovey. You changed yourself.” Garthy's fingers squeezed his arm lightly. "Now. Darling. As you know, anything you could possibly want is on offer here tonight for the 'heroes of Leviathan.'" Somehow the words didn't have the same grating effect on Jack when they came from Garthy's lips, wrapped in a wry smile. "Your friends are already well on their way to enjoying their evening." They waved a hand around the room, and Jack looked up to find Bob cuddled into Trixie's lap by the bar, Marcid sitting by the pool with Myrtle lounging languidly against his legs, Sunny and Cheese cheering by one of the gaming tables. "So. What is it that we can possibly offer to you, Captain Jack Brakkow?"

Jack swallowed. He let his hand fall over Garthy's, fingers squeezing in a grip that was probably too tight, too nervous. "I. Uh." His eyes flickered to the door. "Could we be. Um. Somewhere quieter?"

Garthy threaded their fingers into his, not reacting at all to how convulsively firm his grip was. "Of course, love." They pulled away, tugging him toward the door, and there was a part of him that tried to turn and reach for a mast that wasn't there. Instead, he held on to the strong warmth of Garthy's hand, darted a glance back at his smiling companions, and gratefully left the riot of colors and sounds and people behind him.

Garthy's chamber was soothingly quiet, and Jack felt some of the tension drain out of him as the door closed behind them, only to be replaced with a different kind of tension as he turned to take in the sight of Garthy. They were dazzling, radiant even in the dim candlelight, and his fingers ached to reach out for them, to gather them to him and give them anything they asked of him.

"What I'd like right now," he said, his voice scraped rough with nerves, "is to try to begin repaying the kindness that you’ve showed me.”

"My dear, sweet man," Garthy said. "I offer you anything in the whole city, and this is what you ask of me?"

"Yes. It is."

Garthy's expression was so soft as they stepped forward and cupped the edge of his face with their fingers. "I can't give that to you, Jack."

Jack closed his eyes, turning his face away. "I know," he said hollowly.

"No, I think you misunderstand me." Garthy reached for him again, turning his face back to theirs, and did not continue until he blinked open his eyes. "There is no repayment to offer, because this wasn’t an exchange. You’ve taken a step toward believing that you can earn nice things, but the next step is realizing that you don’t always have to. That sometimes people will give things to you because they want to, and nothing is owed."

Jack lifted a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to that step yet.”

“And that’s perfectly understandable.” Garthy's thumb brushed over his fur before they let their hand drop from his face. "If what you would like tonight is my companionship, I am beyond happy to grant you that. But if what you're looking for is some kind of absolution from a debt that doesn't exist, I'm afraid you're not going to get what you want out of the experience."

Jack felt a swell of hope rise in him. "You'd…" he stammered. "You'd let me stay, then? You'd let me…?" His eyes traveled over Garthy's body, his fingers trembling at his sides with the desire to touch.

"My darling, I would let – no, I would _enjoy_ you doing any number of things with me, if that's what _you_ would enjoy."

"Yes," Jack choked out. "Yes, I. I would like that. I would like to do any number of things with you."

Garthy laughed, bright in the quiet of the room. "Well, tonight seems to be the time to do it, then, before you head off to sea again in that fine new ship of yours."

Jack felt his face fall, felt the nervous energy drop out of him, replaced with a heavy sinking dread. "Ah," he said. "Right."

"Oh." Garthy stepped into his space, eyes alarmed. "Oh, darling, the last thing I meant was to upset you." They reached out a hand, resting it lightly at his waist. "If you're worried that all this will go away when you go to sea – " They waved a hand, " – I assure you, the Gold Gardens and everything in them will be here and available anytime you find yourself in port. You've seen to that yourself, by saving the city."

Jack gave a low gravelly chuckle. "I thank you for that," he said. "But no, it's…it isn't that." 

"Come on, then," Garthy said, their fingers tightening on Jack's waist and tugging him backwards toward the edge of the bed. "Sit. Talk. I'd like very much to give you what you're looking for tonight, but if the looming thought of…whatever this is…is going to keep you from enjoying yourself, we can't have it." They settled down onto the corner of the bed and looked up at him expectantly.

He sighed, scratching his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," he said as he sank down beside them. "I've ruined it."

"Nothing is ruined, darling. Now. What is so upsetting about the thought of your new ship?"

"Well." He looked down at his hands for a very long time, sharpening his claws nervously against each other. "The last crew I had, I let sink to the bottom of the sea." He waited for Garthy to respond, but when he looked up at them, they were watching him, expression sympathetic but expectant, waiting for him to continue. "I carried them with me for years. Literally. Metaphorically. I let them drag me down with them, because I didn't know what else to do. And then I came across…" he sighed, mouth twisting into the ghost of a smile. "Sunny calls us a crew. I'm not so sure. But I came across these people – " he gestured to the door. "And they were…they've been the finest thing to happen to me in…well, in my whole life, I think. But now here I am. With a ship, with my last crew laid to rest, with a new sense of self and purpose…and a team that will be scattered to all ends of the city tomorrow. A captain without a crew." He laughed hollowly. "The same thing I've been for years."

Garthy's hands reached forward to take his, and he held them tenderly, so grateful for their reassuring warmth. "I think you need to talk to your crew, Jack."

He swallowed tightly. "They're not my crew," he said. 

"Not if you don't give them the chance to be, they're not."

"They have lives. They have families and jobs and homes here."

"And your last crew?" Garthy asked. "I suppose they were all completely free of any ties to the city before they decided to go out to sea with you?"

"I – " Jack blinked at them. "Oh."

"You didn't think of that."

"I didn't," Jack admitted. 

"Seems that you've grown as a captain since then."

Jack looked down at their intertwined hands. "I can't lose another crew, Garthy."

"Then I think perhaps, in the morning, before you all leave, you should tell them that."

"It can't be that simple."

"Some things are, my dear man. Will they all decide to go with you? Maybe not, no. But they almost certainly won't if you don't invite them." He could hear a smile in their voice as they amended, "Miss Biscotto might."

Jack breathed out a laugh, and when he looked back up at Garthy, he could feel the tension draining out of him, leaving him as quickly as the mention of the ship had brought it, his muscles going a little looser. "Tomorrow," he agreed. He let himself entertain the image for just a moment, prowling the deck of a ship, his crew around him. Perhaps it wasn't as impossible as he'd made himself believe. 

At this moment, in this city, in this building, in this room, with this person beside him, it somehow seemed like there was very little that could ever be impossible.

"Now, then," Garthy said, looking pleased. "That’s better. You look like you just might be capable of enjoying yourself."

Their fingers squeezed Jack's, and he squeezed back briefly before letting his hands drift up to their wrists, up their arms, to curve over their shoulders, trace up their neck, and cup their face. Their breathing had gone shallow by the time he got there, and he knelt up, leaning forward and looking down at them, letting all the reverence he had for them shine through his eyes.

"I promised," he said, "that I was going to make you feel good tonight."

He could feel Garthy swallow under his touch. "You did," they agreed breathily. "I look forward to it." A smile tugged at their lips. "And then," they said, "I seem to recall an offer to make me the little spoon."

Jack laughed, low and real. "Whatever you want, Garthy," he promised, and proceeded to give them exactly that.

When he drifted off to sleep that night, he found himself being lulled by the slow warm motion of Garthy's chest rising with each breath under his arm, steadying him like the gentle rocking of waves beneath him. He dreamed of a ship, and a crew. Two ships, two crews. 

One at rest, the other bound for adventure, and somehow, Jack Brakkow was part of both of them at once.


End file.
